Send in the Clowns
by PrincessEilonwy
Summary: A deeper look into the motivations of Bonzo Madrid.


Disclaimer: I don't own Bonzo Madrid, Ender Wiggin, or Battle School.

A/N: Um…really, don't ask.  It's so random…and out of character.  Please don't flame me for making people out of character, it seems to be a habit for me.  Hopefully it'll make you smile anyway.

Bonzo

Ender Wiggin had to die.

If there was anything in the world as certain as death and taxes, that was it.  At least for Bonzo Madrid.  His sense of honor and dignity had made him deeply resentful of the little shrimp from the second he set eyes on him.  And not only because the teachers had insulted him by assigning Wiggin to his army…

The kid had pronounced his name wrong.  Bon-zoe.  No decent person would be caught dead with a name like that!  It was a name for a clown.

Bonzo hated clowns.

On his fifth birthday, the last one before he was taken to Battle School, Bonzo's parents had hired a clown for his birthday party.  There had been cake, ice cream, musical chairs, and nine five-year-olds generally having the time of their lives.

After an hour, the clown, who had an alarmingly red nose and huge shoes, called all the children to sit around him.  He proceeded to do some card tricks that, while clever, weren't enough to hold their attention for long.  It was obviously time to progress to the next thing, which turned out to be balloon animals.  Bonzo received something that the clown insisted was a dog.  He remained firmly convinced that it was a pink hippopotamus.

"Now," the clown said cheerfully, clapping his hands and executing a little jig.  "Where's our birthday boy?"  Bonzo jumped to his feet quickly.  Something exciting was going to happen, he was sure of it!  Maybe the clown would make coins come out of his ears…

Apparently not.  "Stand right here," the clown instructed, "and close your eyes so I can get out your surprise birthday gift."  Obediently, Bonzo closed his eyes tightly.  He loved surprises.

"Should I give it to him?" the clown asked the other children.  They obviously could see his gift, whatever it was, and it was making them howl with laughter.  "Should I give it to him?"

"Give it to him!" Bonzo's friends cried.  "Hurry, hurry!"

Bonzo was starting to wonder what all this was about.  "Give it to me," he pleaded.

"Aaaaaall right!" the clown said.  He added, in a fake announcer voice, "Here it comes, kiddo!"

Holding out his hands eagerly for the present, Bonzo was shocked to feel something soft and moist make contact with his face.  His eyes snapped open as the pie pan dropped to the ground with a clatter.

The other kids were shouting and laughing, pointing at him with the innocently sadistic glee only small children are capable of.  Bonzo stood there, still in shock, his face dripping lemon cream.  What had just happened?

Even as a small boy, Bonzo's Spanish honor was already making itself apparent.  Where most other boys would have laughed along with their friends, he was aware only of a mounting rage.  "I trusted you!" he spluttered, turning to the clown in outrage.

"Hey, kid," the clown said with some concern, "it's only a pie.  Here, we'll get you all cleaned up—"

But Bonzo had already run from the backyard, hot tears of shame threatening to escape and show themselves to the cruel, mocking world.  The world in which, he now realized, nobody could be trusted.  Not even those who seemed kindest and most trustworthy.  Nobody…

Bonzo shook himself out of his thoughts.  There was no use dwelling on the past now.  What he dwelled on now, what filled his mind utterly, was the need for revenge on that little pinprick Wiggin, the one who had mangled his name.

But not yet, he reminded himself sternly.  For the time being he had Salamander Army, _his _army, to think about.  He had the future to plan for.

He had to be a good commander, a good strategist.  Had to stay alert.  Had to win.  Always.  Because if he didn't, if he let down his guard for just one moment…

There was always that nagging, half-buried fear that he would vault into the battleroom and meet, not the rival army of the day, but a pie in the face.

A/N: Okay.  I have no idea where that came from.  Really, please don't flame me, I'm aware it was my first Ender story and not a very good one at that.  Will it help if I told you I had this really good short story from Val's POV written, but it was deleted along with the rest of my hard drive?  Now that made me mad…But anyway, just wanted to show a slightly wackier side of Bonzo Madrid.  Hope you liked it.


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